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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832478">Elegy of a Desert Thunderstorm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReluctantlyGreyhound/pseuds/ReluctantlyGreyhound'>ReluctantlyGreyhound</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Fluff and Smut, Daddy Issues, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, First Time Blow Jobs, Incest, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Quote: Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically irrationally erotically codependent on each other, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester is Not Okay, they truly are and we all know whose fault it is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:46:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReluctantlyGreyhound/pseuds/ReluctantlyGreyhound</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sam swallows, heart pounding in his ears. “I just... I don’t want to be left alone, Dean."</i>
</p><p><i>Dean coughs again. “Well, you- um. You’d still have dad. You know? Like... you wouldn’t be</i> alone<i>.” </i></p><p>
  <i>“I’d be alone. With dad,” Sam whispers, and despite all his best efforts, one single tear slides down his cheek.</i>
</p><p>or: Sam Winchester has a hole in his heart that can only be filled by one person.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951261</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Elegy of a Desert Thunderstorm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is set pre-show, so they're underage for sure, but just how underage is up to u!! the only signifier i put in is that dean is in his teens</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I didn’t realize it'd be such a big deal, Sammy. Hey... hey! Don’t look at me like that.” </p><p>Sam irritably slams the motel door shut with a bang, tired of watching Dean deflect the real problem like he<em> always </em>does. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care.” </p><p>Dean rolls his eyes. “Oh Jesus. You obviously do, and I'm telling you: I’m <em>sorry</em>.” </p><p>Sam plops down on one of the lumpy beds and huffs out a sigh. “Can you please shut up?” he snaps. “I’m tired.” The buzz of his brother’s voice is not doing his stuffy head any favors, not since he almost bawled in the middle of the lobby a few minutes ago. </p><p>“Look, I won’t do it again, I promise. I’m not actually trying to get on your nerves<em> all </em>the time, y’know,” Dean scoffs. “C’mon, Sammy...” He idly strolls over to the TV and starts fiddling with the remote. </p><p>“Stop calling me that,” Sam grits out between clenched teeth. “You know I hate being called that, and yet you still keep saying it.” </p><p>“What are you being such a fuckin’ pain in the ass about this for?” groans Dean, putting the remote down with a click. “I apologized, <em>Sam</em>, and it’s really not a big deal.” </p><p>“You were going to leave me alone!” Sam yells, hopping out of the bed and rounding on Dean furiously. “You were going to leave me alone and go spend the night with some... some <em>bimbo</em>!” </p><p>Dean raises his hands defensively. “Hey, be nice. I paid for dinner, and it’s not like spending one single night alone is gonna kill you,” he says. Sam turns pale with anger.  </p><p><em> He really doesn’t understand, does he? </em> </p><p>“You’re just like dad,” he says out loud, injecting the words with all the venom they deserve.  </p><p>“Well, good! Thanks, bitch! He’s a great man.” </p><p>“A great man who leaves us, two <em>kids</em>, alone to fend for ourselves for weeks at a time. He puts us in danger, Dean.” </p><p>“You know why he has to,” says Dean, and Sam is struck with the split-second urge to<em> make </em>him understand. <em>He </em><em>has to </em><em>understand. </em> </p><p>“Yeah. Sure. I might feel better about it if he acted happier to be back, but...” Sam trails off and puts his head in his hands, sitting heavily back down on the bed.  </p><p><em> Now, now, do it now.  </em> </p><p>“God,” he sighs, feeling the heavy weight of years on the road in his young bones. “He hates us, Dean.” </p><p>Silence fills the musty room, interrupted by the roar of trucks on the highway twenty feet away. Dean rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and clears his throat. </p><p>“Um. No, he doesn’t. That ain’t true.” </p><p><em> Fuck this</em>. “Oh, shut <em>up</em>, Dean, he-” </p><p>“Well, I don’t know why you’re complaining when you’re his favorite anyway,” grumbles Dean, looking at the floor. </p><p>“What?” Sam scoffs. <em>Really, </em>what<em>?  </em>“No, he thinks I'm stupid and weak. He likes you so much better.” </p><p>“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean coughs. “Yeah, ‘course he does, you’re right. Like you said, I’m just so similar to him.” </p><p>“Fuck off.” Sam collapses back on the bed and sighs tiredly. “Wonder when he’s going to be back.” </p><p>“I thought you didn’t want him to be back?” </p><p>“When did I say that?” </p><p>“I just thought-” </p><p>“No really, when?” Sam scrubs his hands through his hair. “Ugh, god, why are you so<em> difficult</em>?” </p><p>“You’re the one throwing a temper tantrum,” Dean points out. “In any case, does it really matter that he’s not here right now?” Sam hears his shoes scuffing on the carpet floor awkwardly. “I just mean, like... you have me; I’m here.” </p><p>“And you were about to leave too! In case you forgot,” snaps Sam wearily. “That’s what my whole ‘temper tantrum’ was about.” The conversation is going in circles now and he just wants to sleep and forget this all happened. Maybe Dean will get it tomorrow. </p><p>“But did I?” The bedsprings on the other bed squeak, and Sam looks up slightly to see Dean watching him intently from his seat on the dusty coverlet. “Did I leave you, Sammy?” </p><p>Sam sits up and glares back at his brother. “No, but that’s-” </p><p>“Nope!” Dean cuts across him with a grin. “I didn’t! Brother of the year, honestly, ‘cause she was <em>smokin</em>’” </p><p><em> Damn, and here I was thinking we were making progress. </em> </p><p>“Oh, grow up,” Sam groans out loud. “Anyway, you only stayed because you didn’t want me to start crying in the middle of the lobby.” </p><p>Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, what’s your point? No, I didn’t want to see my baby brother crying, so I stayed.” </p><p>Sam flushes.  </p><p>“Okay, fine, sure, whatever, I’m just saying...” He runs his hands through his hair again agitatedly. <em>I'm so fucking tired</em>. “God, I don’t know.” </p><p>“You can talk to me.” Dean’s voice is unusually serious, and when Sam looks up, he sees that the strange, intense look on his brother’s face is back. “I’m serious, you can talk to me. I already apologized, but I can do it again if you want me to.” </p><p>“No, whatever, it’s f-” </p><p>“I’m apologizing,” grunts Dean. “I’m sorry for giving you a scare. I honest to god thought you weren’t gonna mind, but I’m really sorry. Are you gonna talk to me?” </p><p>Sam swallows, heart pounding in his ears. “I just... I don’t want to be left alone, Dean. What if she was a monster? What if something happened to you? I’d be alone.” He sniffles and scrubs at his nose angrily, trying to deny the tears welling up. Dean is so close, so much closer to understanding, but now that he’s actually listening, Sam just wants to run away. Why tell him, after all? </p><p>Dean coughs again. “Well, you- um. You’d still have dad. You know? Like... you wouldn’t be <em>alone</em>.” </p><p>“I’d be alone. With dad,” Sam whispers, and despite all his best efforts, one single tear slides down his cheek. </p><p>“Oh! Oh, hey, hey, dude, man, Sammy-” Dean crosses the space between the beds with a single stride and sits down next to his brother. “Um...” </p><p>Before he can do anything, Sam silently leans over and puts his head on Dean’s shoulder, swimming eyes staring blankly at the cheap faux-wood wall. It’s warm and comforting. The leather of his jacket slides roughly against his cheek and he sighs, taking a deep breath of the familiar smell. </p><p>Dean awkwardly puts his arm around Sam and rubs his arm. “Hey, hey, hey, I’m here, I’m not gonna leave you. I’m never gonna leave if you don’t want me to. I can stay right here with you forever, if you’re sure that’s what you really want. I dunno why you’d want that, if we’re being honest-” (And they are. They are being so honest tonight.) “-but sure. I promise. </p><p>Sam nods weakly and sniffles again. Dean smiles, a quick little thinning of the lips. “And feel how big my muscles are, yeah? I can definitely protect myself from a girly little monster, and I can protect you too, how’s that sound?” Sam almost laughs at that. <em>There’s the classic Dean</em>.  </p><p>The bullet of reality had already hit him back in the lobby, and he<em> knows</em> how much he’d miss his brother if he was gone, but the pain of that realization has only caught up now, and he gasps softly at it. In their dad’s line of work, people die. Dean could <em>die. </em> </p><p>His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, pressing up against his big brother’s side. “Would you really have left me alone to sleep with her?” he asks quietly, all the unspoken pain and fear and possessiveness and love and everything else bubbling under the surface. </p><p><em> Figure it out, please don’t make me say it</em>. </p><p>“Oh, uh...” Dean almost blushes. “Well, yeah, but not now that I know it’d bother you so much. Don’t worry about it.” </p><p>“What-” Sam’s throat closes on the sentence and he chokes, so he tries again, hoarsely. “What the hell does she have that I don’t?” </p><p><em> Well. There it is</em>. </p><p>Dean blinks. “Um. Haha. Boobs? Funny, bro...” </p><p>Sam looks up at his brother’s jawline, downy with teenage fuzz, but beautiful. So handsome and sharp. He’s started now, no time to stop. </p><p>“No, I didn’t mean like... boobs,” he almost whispers. “I know I don’t have that, I’m not stupid, but-” He closes his eyes. “I have a mouth, I have a body too, Dean. What does she have that I can’t give you better?” Dean sits still, frozen, and Sam swallows, pushing out the next words in a gush. “I know what you like; I’ve listened to you jerk off and looked at those porn magazines you stole... I know you’re not gay, I <em>know</em>, but I can give it all to you. You can fuck me, put your dick in me, if that’s what you want. Or if you want me to suck it, that’s fine too, I can do that, I’ve done it before, practiced just for you. I can do it, I just... Oh god-” The tears are back, and this time he couldn’t stop them if he tried. </p><p>“Just please don’t leave me alone, Dean. Please... oh god.” Sam sobs, burying his face in the shoulder of the old leather jacket, familiar to him as his own body.  </p><p>Dean’s hand tightens almost imperceptibly around his arm and Sam shudders, burrowing closer against his brother’s body to melt into the warmth. </p><p>“Sammy,” his brother says, dangerously low. “You said you practiced. The blow jobs, you said you practiced that.” </p><p>A shiver starts at the base of Sam’s spine and crawls up slowly. He knows that voice. Dad uses that voice. </p><p>“J- j- just-” he stutters, hiccupping. “Just practice.” He doesn’t want to look at Dean’s beautiful face now. He doesn’t want to <em>see </em>the rage and the hate and the disgust that he hears in his brother’s voice. It’s bad enough already. </p><p>“What the fuck does that mean?” Dean hisses. “What the<em> fuck</em> is practice, Sammy?” </p><p>“Don’t call me that,” Sam whispers. </p><p>“<em>No</em>,” growls Dean, and in a second, the warmth is torn away and Sam is on his back, staring into his brother’s eyes, flat as the plane of a knife. “You tell me what that means right now or so help me god...” His fingers dig into Sam’s shoulders painfully, and Sam whimpers. </p><p>“<em>Ow</em>, ow, Dean, stop, I- <em>Fuck</em>, it’s truckers, okay? J- just truckers! At the gas stations,” he yelps. “We go to a lot of gas stations, a- a- and they think I'm pretty.” Dean looks positively murderous, and everything is wiped out in Sam’s mind except for a desperate desire to please. “I am pretty, Dean, I can be so pretty for you, a- and I was j- just practicing so I could make you feel good, I’m- <em>ow</em>, please...” </p><p>Dean growls wordlessly and forces Sam back deeper into the mattresses. “They touched you?” </p><p>“Yes, b- but they-” </p><p>“No. One. Touches. You,” hisses Dean. “<em>No one</em>. Fuck, I’m gonna kill them all myself. What were their names?” He gives Sam a shake. “<em>Names</em>, Sam. I’m gonna string them up on their own grilles and cut their throats for what they did to you.” </p><p>“I don’t know!” Sam wails. “I never learned any of their names, please... stop, <em>stop! </em>I- I chose it. For you. So-” </p><p>“So you could be good for me,” his brother seethes.  </p><p>He surges down and slams his lips against Sam’s roughly. </p><p>“<em>No one touches you</em>.” </p><p>Sam freezes in shock and moans against Dean’s mouth, every single thought wiped out of his head as completely as if they never existed. Dean pulls back after a second, but the tingle remains, leaping through Sam’s lips and crackling over the divide between the two of them like lightning. </p><p>“No one,” Dean pants. “Except for me.” </p><p>“Y- you want me...” Sam whispers, those damn fucking tears prickling up again. “You actually want me.” </p><p>“God, Sammy,” his brother rasps. “You’re so stupid. You actually thought I was gonna leave you?” </p><p>Sam sobs wordlessly, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth in a futile attempt to stifle it, and Dean’s furious expression eases slightly. </p><p>“No, I’m not gonna leave you. You’re not leaving my fucking sight ever again. I’m keeping you right next to me forever, and if you ever recognize one of those bastards, you better point him out to me, ‘cause best believe I will kill that man and he <em>will </em>deserve it for touching you, you...” Dean takes a deep breath and runs a hand down Sam’s face tenderly, in violent contrast with the hard lines of his face. “My Sammy, my baby. Oh god.” He wraps his arms around Sam and pulls him up, crushing him against his chest. Sam gasps and melts, sagging into his brother’s arms and just letting himself cry. </p><p>“Oh, my baby,” Dean whispers into his hair, rocking them back and forth gently. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. It’s gonna be alright. It’s all gonna be alright. I’ve got you. Please, don’t cry.” He sniffles and Sam feels warm tears dripping into his hair. “Don’t cry, please, Sammy, I’ve got you.” </p><p>Sam is distantly conscious that his body his shaking, but all he can truly feel is Dean's jawline pressed closely against the top of his head, and the warm circle of his brother’s arms around him.  </p><p>It’s enough.  </p><p>It’s more than enough, it’s<em> everything</em>. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear and know and he can’t stop the sobs ripping out of him any more than he’d be able to stop a thunderstorm opening over the Texas desert. </p><p>“Dean...” he whispers into his brother’s chest. “Oh, Dean...” Leather and sweat and dust. <em>My brother</em>. </p><p>Dean shudders through his entire body and gives Sam one more crushing squeeze before pulling back and kissing him again. It’s gentler this time, less Texas lightning and more like the soft rain that comes after. Their lips slide against each other in a symphony of chapped skin and spit, and it’s incomprehensible that anything could ever feel so right, but it<em> does </em>and Sam can find no words for it. </p><p>Dean’s hands slide possessively up and down his back as he slowly pulls back for air. “Please tell me those were your first kisses,” he whispers against Sam’s swollen mouth, and Sam laughs tearfully. </p><p>“Yes, oh god, yes, you jerk. Do you really think I’d let anyone kiss me except for you?” </p><p>Dean snorts and grips the back of his neck roughly. “Well, I ain’t sure what to think about what you’d let people do to you now.” </p><p>Sam flushes and leans back into his brother’s touch, closing his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry, I-” </p><p>“Shhhh,” says Dean and puts a gentle finger to Sam’s lips. “I forgive you, Sammy. Don’t talk about it.” </p><p>“Can...” Sam slowly opens his eyes and meets his brother’s hungry gaze. “Can I at least show you what I’ve learned?” </p><p>He can<em> see </em>the arousal hit Dean. His brother’s pupils dilate and a shiver resonates through Sam in time with the bob of Dean’s adam’s apple, and he realizes in that moment that it’s not just him. He’s not alone, after all. </p><p>“Yes. Yes, absolutely,” rasps Dean. “That sounds fucking amazing.” He reluctantly lets his arms drop from around Sam’s body, and Sam misses the warmth for a second, but then he’s letting himself slide down to the ground with Dean’s lanky legs framing him in their stretch, and nothing has ever felt more right except for that kiss. </p><p>Dean peers down from his perch on the bed and Sam smiles up at him. They haven’t showered in a long time, and their clothes have gone without water for longer, so the musky, sweaty scent of Dean’s crotch hits him strongly as he bends forward. His own cock jumps in his pants, instantly stiffening. </p><p>“Oh, wow...” he moans involuntarily, and Dean chuckles. </p><p>“Dude, if you’re already salivating, just wait until you see the thing itself.”  </p><p>Sam rolls his eyes fondly and unzips his brother’s pants, and... </p><p>Well, maybe Dean did have a point. <em>Wow. </em> </p><p>The bulge is much clearer with just Dean’s underwear stretched over it, and between the mild dampness from the sweat in the center and the darker spot showing where he’s leaking out pre-cum runs a dickprint that could conservatively be described as <em>long </em>and <em>thick</em>. </p><p>Sam licks his lips. “Oh. Wow.” </p><p>“Heh,” Dean grins and starts to shuck off his jacket. “Yeah, it’s nice, ain’t it?” </p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, god, I...” Sam moans again and looks up. “Oh! Could you uh. I’m sorry, but-” Dean raises an eyebrow and Sam blushes. “The jacket. Could you keep it on? I like it.” </p><p>“The jacket?” Dean blinks. “But I’m sweaty and you’re gonna make me way sweatier in a couple seconds.” </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just...” Sam sighs. “It’s so... <em>you</em>. I dunno. Never mind.” </p><p>Dean shrugs it back on, smiling fondly down at Sam on his knees. “No, I can keep it. Ain’t a big deal, especially if you like it so much.” </p><p>“You look really hot,” breathes Sam. “Yeah. Yeah, I do like it. That’s not just why I like it, but... yeah. You look amazing.” </p><p>Dean’s smile turns into a wicked smirk as he reaches into his underwear and pulls out his hard cock and balls. “Yeah, I do, and now I look even better.” </p><p>To his embarrassment, Sam can’t hold back an audible gasp. He reaches out with trembling hands, smoothing the dripping pre-cum around the head with one thumb. Dean groans. </p><p>“Oh, nice, that’s so nice. You have nice fingers, Sammy. Have I told you that before? Wow.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Sam says softly. </p><p>He remembers one motel they stayed at years ago that had an actual piano in the lobby. Incredibly random, not to mention rare, and they had both stared at it hungrily until the bored desk attendant benevolently took pity on them and let them open it. </p><p>They had fun fooling around on the keys and making a godawful noise, but then Dean had remarked that Sam’s fingers were quite long and elegant actually, and it’s too bad they didn’t have a house anymore, because Dean remembered Mom saying that maybe piano lessons would be good for Dean to teach him focus and make him less hyper, but Dean thought that it was a shame because Sam would clearly be much better at it than he would. </p><p>He got all sad and frowny after saying that, and Sam remembered trying to plink out some sort of pleasant song to cheer his brother up. It didn’t work, of course, Sam never having received any kind of musical training at all, and Dean was pensive and moody the entire rest of the day. </p><p>Sam brushes the memory away irritably and automatically gives Dean’s cock a smooth stroke, body knowing exactly what to do with a leaking, fat cock in front of his face. </p><p>“God...” his brother groans. “Shoulda done this earlier, <em>fuck</em>.” </p><p>Sam smiles and presses a soft kiss to the slit, trembling slightly. “Y- yeah, I agree.” Dean jerks under his hands, and Sam takes the opportunity to slide his lips around the head, cheeks hollowing reflexively. </p><p>“<em>Unhgh</em>,” Dean groans comprehensively. “<em>Fuck</em>.” </p><p>His praise is a sweet, soothing balm against Sam’s aching soul, and Sam moans in response, happier than he can ever remember being. </p><p>When he slides down all the way to the base, Dean gasps, bending over and wrapping his arms around Sam’s head. “Oh, god, Sammy, oh shit.” </p><p>Sam gags, breathing hard through his nose as he tries to stay down on his brother’s huge cock without fully retching. It feels fucking amazing, and all he can do is keen in his throat in response. He can feel the warm weight of Dean’s body pressing over him, and the pressure grounds him out of a future of fears back into the present. </p><p>Dean is here. <em>Dean is here</em>. </p><p><em> Dean isn’t leaving. </em> </p><p><em> He’ll hold me forever. It's all </em><em>gonna </em><em>be okay</em>.  </p><p>He pulls off with a gasp, sobbing and coughing against Dean’s cock as his brother strokes the back of his neck and whispers unintelligible sweet nothings into his hair. </p><p>“Oh, <em>Dean</em>...” he whimpers. </p><p>“I’m right here, Sammy,” Dean moans back. “I’m right here.” Sam goes back down, and Dean starts shaking. “Y- you’re so fucking good, you know. You’re so pretty and good, how could I ever leave you? You’re stupid as fuck for thinking that, but god, you’re so smart too. You’re just a perfect boy.” </p><p>Sam’s eyes water, and it’s not just the cock tickling his vocal cords causing it. He whimpers again, sucking harder and trying to keep bobbing up and down like he learned. He can have an emotional breakdown afterwards, but Dean’s words keep coming, and the emotions build and crash and reform like storm clouds, building with the rising of his tears. </p><p>“You’re so fucking p- perfect- <em>fuck, perfect</em>,” he can hear his brother groan. “Oh god, you’re the most perfect boy ever.” And now Sammy is sobbing around Dean’s cock, hot tears dropping into the bush around it, and Dean is making the most unholy noises he’s ever heard in the entirety of his short life. </p><p>“Why would I ever leave you?” Dean whispers. “I could never; you’re mine. You’re mine, my own perfect kid. My baby brother...” </p><p>Sam chokes and has to pull off again. Dean grabs his hair and yanks him into a violent, possessive kiss that sucks all the air right out of Sam’s body.  </p><p>He sobs against his brother’s lips, and Dean responds in kind, mewling as Sam’s short-circuiting mind makes him keep stroking his cock through the kiss. Sam goes down again, and if Dean was shaking before, he’s really trembling now. </p><p>“Shit, I’m the luckiest boy in the whole world,” Dean moans. “<em>Shit</em>, fuck, I’m about to cum. Whoa, S- Sam, what the fuck are you doing to me.” </p><p>And Sam, bursting at seams with the praise, loses himself in the sensation of lips and spit sliding along sweaty, hot skin, until – with a loud roar of “<em>Sammy” </em>– his brother cums, shooting his seed deep down Sam’s throat. </p><p>Sam catches it all, like a good boy, and they still, chests heaving. It’s a beautiful, rich sound; their gasping and the sniffles from Sam’s sobs filling the little room with the wonderful pressure of love. </p><p>“Wow,” Dean groans after a few seconds. “Wow. Holy shit.” Sam blinks blearily up at him, completely unable to form any words, and Dean smiles, hooking his hands under Sam’s armpits to pull his limp body up onto the bed. “God, you did so well, Sammy, and you look so beautiful, you have no idea. I wish you could see yourself right now.” </p><p>Sam feels messy and full and sleepy, but he smiles softly at that, and Dean’s smile grows wider. </p><p>“I’m serious,” he says. “Your hair is going everywhere, and your lips are just... wait, hold up a second.” Dean kisses him softly. Sam can feel his smile against his lips. </p><p>“Mmm,” he manages to mumble, and Dean laughs. </p><p>“Yeah, sorry, your lips are just the most gorgeous things I've ever seen right now. They’re so puffy and shiny and wet, shit... why are you literally the embodiment of sex?” </p><p>“Might have something to do with my burning desire for you,” Sam rasps. </p><p>“Yeah, just maybe,” responds Dean. He reaches down to fondle Sam’s bulge, still hard even though the rest of Sam is quite sleepy, and smiles. “Okay, let me take care of you.” </p><p>Sam releases between the two of them after a few strokes, moaning quietly in the back of his throat as he cums. He doesn’t have the energy for anything more, but Dean presses a kiss to the top of his head when he’s done, so everything must be okay. </p><p>He can feel the splatters on Dean’s jacket when his brother wraps him up in his arms, and on a normal day he would lick them up without hesitation; it’s late now, though, and the comforting background noise of the trucks on the highway has lulled him half to sleep already. </p><p>“Good night, Sammy,” Dean says quietly into his hair, pressing him against his body like he wants to fold Sam into himself and hide him there forever. </p><p>“G’night,” Sam mumbles back. “Love you, Dean.” </p><p>“I love you too,” whispers his brother. “You’re not alone, I promise.” </p><p>And he isn’t. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fuck john winchester all my homies hate john winchester !!! anyways pls leave a kudos if u liked it and a comment if it made u feel something, and have a lovely day/night/whatever time it is for u :33</p></blockquote></div></div>
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